To decorate this ensemble, she will require
burnt twigs from a lonely byre,
paper uncoiled from a poisoned hornet’s nest.
Rags dripping with ammonia,
shards of bone, sprays of tears,
a bucket of rage to thrown on the fire.
Bandages ripped from corpses,
crushed bird skulls, garlands of
dark stars, stadiums of frowns.
Such grim sculpture must please her; they
immolate like monks aflame with gas
gasp like gimps choked on leather,
burning moths of bad moods, flailing.